Reluctant Heir

by Barbara Miller

  “But he is your grandfather’s mortal enemy,” Chandler insisted.

  “Was his enemy,” Gerard corrected. “The war, all wars I hope, are over. I wish I had realized that sooner.”

  “You mean to stay then, to flout your inheritance, to dash Juliet’s hopes?”

  Gerard faced Chandler then. “I wish I could do something for Juliet but I scarcely know her. There is no guarantee that if I went with you I could make her happy. I cannot free her from her trap or if I did she might not thank me for it.”

  “You would stay with the enemy instead?”

  “The enemy? Now you are talking like a soldier.”

  “I will take you with me. I must.” Chandler lunged to his feet and Gerard now realized how very drunk he was.

  “And I feel I must stay.” Gerard turned toward Conde and discovered the servant had not been idle in this interlude but had loaded a pistol and was pointing it at Chandler.

  “Conde, no!”

  When the hammer clicked Gerard leaped in front of his cousin, heard a loud report and the ball seared his ribs. Staggering back into Chandler, he felt himself dragged toward the door and heard his cousin giving orders to his servants outside. As though in a dream he saw General Soutine struggle up out of his chair in a fog of black powder smoke, then almost fall as Conde rushed to his aid. He could still hear the servant bellowing as two men shut the door and held it closed against Conde’s repeated assaults while Chandler and one servant loaded Gerard into the carriage. Finally the other two propped a stone bench against the door and leaped for the boot as the carriage took off.

  Even though the growing wet warmth told him he’d been shot it had all happened so fast he could not quite believe it. He laid his hand over the wound and felt something sharp in his side but he did not feel like he was dying. Unaccountably he started to laugh at how fate had played this hand. Leave it to the knight to surprise you. He wasn’t sure anymore if he was the king or only a pawn. It would be interesting to see how the game played out.

  * * * * *

  Juliet peeked under the pad covering the wound on Gerard’s left side and pressed it back in place when she saw it had stopped bleeding again. It seemed that every time they helped him out of the coach at an inn to eat or use the necessary the wound broke open again but not this time. Perhaps it was starting to heal. After a night, a day and now another night on the road Gerard was the only one who had gotten much sleep.

  She did not think the bullet was in him but had glanced off his ribs. Still the gash looked ugly and the swaying of the carriage made it hard to hold him on the seat, so she had stationed herself on the edge of the seat where he lay. Charles sat opposite her with his head craned out the window, looking backwards down the road from whence they had come though how he expected to see pursuers in the middle of the night she did not know. Her maid Sophie was sniffling in the other corner from Charles, still terrified by their hasty and desperate departure from Paris.

  Her brother pulled his head back in, his hair ruffled from the wind. “How is he?”

  “Unconscious again and he feels hot. Can we not get him a doctor when we reach Calais?”

  “No, nor let anyone know he is wounded.”

  “They’re going to see the bloody shirt.” She tucked the blanket tighter about Gerard.

  “We’ll throw your cloak around him. We must hope we can take ship before Soutine can send word we are making off with Gerard.”

  “But you said we had the right to take him.”

  “Yes but right isn’t always recognized especially in France. Can you wake him? We will be there shortly.”

  As Charles lifted the leather curtain on the coach and peered out again she poured rose water out of a vial onto her handkerchief and mopped the feverish cheeks of the young man, then swabbed his brow. She had not been surprised at their sudden departure for Charles had warned her to pack before he went out, and he had been drinking. While she had paced the sitting room she had in fact wondered if he was planning the abduction of Gerard and had wrung her hands for an hour while she waited for her brother’s return. But to be thrust into a carriage containing Gerard wounded had overset her maid who fainted dead away. It was left to Juliet to help Charles wrap Gerard’s lanced ribs and bundle a blanket about him while the menservants loaded the baggage. What a havey-cavey exit. She had found herself in the midst of the emergency hoping that Charles had remembered to pay the bill.

  Gerard remained unresponsive as she heard the wheels of the coach bumping over cobbles. On an impulse she leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Gerard caught his breath and his eyes fluttered open.

  “Est-ce que je suis mort?”

  “No you are quite alive.”

  “Juliet?” He breathed out a sigh of relief. “For a moment I thought I had gone to heaven.”

  “No, just as far as Calais. Do you think you can stand?”

  “I’m not sure. I feel drunk.”

  “That was the brandy I forced down your throat,” Charles said. “If anyone should stop us, Juliet, tell them Gerard is drunk. As for you,” Charles said, turning to the maid who cowered in the corner, “keep your mouth shut or I will throttle you.”

  “So is this an abduction?” Gerard asked.

  “No, a setting right of a wrong,” Charles vowed. “You are being rescued.”

  Gerard chuckled, then groaned. “And we wonder why France and England are forever fighting each other.”

  Juliet took his hand and chafed it. “Be serious, Gerard. If you say one word you could cause both Charles and me to land in a French prison. Is that what you want?”

  “In truth, I don’t know what I want,” he said, gazing at her as if he were bemused.

  Juliet sensed that Gerard meant to pull himself together and she could only admire him for being so much more mature than her passionate brother. Indeed when they reached the port it was well into the morning and Gerard got out of the carriage almost unassisted, then stood holding onto her arm in front of the inn. Charles helped him inside and demanded a private parlor, glaring at Juliet’s maid so she would be still about all this.

  Charles helped Gerard to a chair, then went to book passage. Juliet was so distracted watching for her brother out the window she missed the entrance of the waiter until Gerard began calmly ordering breakfast for them. She stared at him as though he had run mad. Finally the waiter left them.

  She found herself wringing her hands again now that they had come so far. “You mean to help us? Charles told me how you leaped in front of the gun to save his life. What made you do it?”

  “My very real fear that Conde would be taken up as a murderer if Chandler was to turn up dead.”

  “But you could have been killed and it would have been all my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Gerard leaned back in the chair with a grunt of pain. “How so? For not controlling your brother? He is older and should be more responsible.”

  “I guessed what he planned to do and did not stop him.”

  He shook his head. “How could you?”

  Gerard looked up at her and she felt compelled to tell him the truth. “I wanted you to come with us so that I could know you better and so you could meet your family, especially your grandfather. There are many who think General Cochran is a hard man but he does care about us. I know he will show the same affection for you.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

  He reached for her and she went to sit beside him and grip his right hand. It was no longer cold but firm and warm. Perhaps too warm.

  “But I was not killed so there is no point in despairing. Besides it would hardly have been your fault.”

  “Everything Charles does is for me.”

  “Ah, I see. You are still worried about having to make…” He glanced at the maid. “Un mésalliance?”

  “No. Like Charles I am in a quake that Soutine will send someone after us before we can embark.”

  “I don’t think he will. Come, sit. You need some good English tea to re
store your nerves.”

  When Juliet looked on his confident, sincere face she somehow lost her fear. And even Charles did not have the ability to dispel all her worries. “Is that what you ordered?”

  “Yes but who knows what we will be forced to drink.” He gripped her hand again. “You are chilled.”

  “And you have a fever.”

  “We make a fine pair. I don’t feel all that bad. Capital work with the bandages.”

  “Be serious, Gerard. Soutine wants you with him for whatever reason. Perhaps Charles is right, revenge on General Cochran.”

  Gerard straightened in the chair and threw the cloak off. The sight of the blood-soaked shirt caused the maid to whimper.

  “When I told Soutine about you he said he thought I should go with you.”

  “What? Then why did you not agree to come?”

  “In his heart he wanted me to stay with him. Have you never done something against your will because it is the best thing for someone else?”

  “No, not yet at any rate.” She could feel her lips tremble and saw Gerard’s hand come up to stroke her jaw.

  “Don’t be afraid. We will escape and I will talk to this dragon of a grandfather. Then we will see what is to happen.”

  “It’s not fair. Just because we are young we have no power over our lives.”

  “I’m getting tired of that myself. What about you? Ah here comes the tea, bread and cheese. Charles had better return if he wants anything to eat.”

  The waiter had bumped the door open and was backing in with a tray but before he could turn Juliet leaped up and threw the cloak around Gerard.

  The waiter who laid their repast barely gave the sniffing maid a glance. Gerard supposed if anything he thought the girl had been admonished by her mistress. So long as she just cried they were perfectly safe. When Chandler returned Gerard was eating a slice of bread one-handed and Juliet was peeling an apple for him. The maid ate her portion at a corner table, her eyes wary.

  “I found an English packet that can take us aboard but not until tonight.”

  “Try this tea, Chandler,” Gerard suggested. “It isn’t half bad.”

  “So you are resigned to your fate?” he asked as he accepted a cup from his sister and sat down.

  “I am content to see what happens next. It’s almost like a game of chess. But I cannot promise you I will stay at this Old Stand place forever.”

  “All I ask is that you come for a visit.”

  “Agreed then. What could go wrong?”

  They had barely finished their meager meal when they found out. A sharp rap at the door announced the entrance of the harbor master who demanded to see their passports.

  Charles handed over his half-dozen folded papers. “These are for my sister, our servants and me. We can’t seem to—”

  “Un moment.” It took Gerard some effort to slide his money belt out and hand over the passport. Juliet stared at it, probably thrilled to see that it was not blood soaked.

  “Vous êtes Monsier Gerard Cochran?”

  “Je suis.”

  “Êtes vous Juliet Chandler?”

  “Oui.”

  “And I am Charles Chandler. This is Juliet’s maid, Sophie Hull. My groom, valet and footman are in the taproom.”

  The man asked what was wrong with the girl and Gerard informed him in French that she got seasick and was afraid of the crossing. The official seemed on the point of leaving when he turned. “Monsier, vous avez sang sur votre manteau.”

  Gerard looked under his arm and laughed. “Oui. Mon blessure avez ouvrir une fois de plus. La bataile en Belgique.”

  Charles turned to the man. “Our cousin was unable to travel until now. We are here to escort him home. He was fortunate to have survived the battle.”

  Gerard waited to see if Juliet or himself would have to elaborate on this.

  The man frowned and hesitated perhaps about to ask on which side he had served. There were many Anglo-French families. But he clicked his heels together and bowed sharply. “Très bien. Bonne chance.” He left as quickly as he had entered.

  * * * * *

  Gerard was lying on a ship’s cot trying to recall his last voyage. He’d had a father then. Now he did not but he did not feel alone either. It was amazing how quickly he had become attached to Juliet and her brother.

  When Chandler came into the cabin they were to share he said, “Thank you for not resisting. But why did you cooperate? One word to the port master and we would have been clapped in jail.”

  “Chandler, you are like the tide. A person may struggle against you but eventually you will come in and swamp them.”

  “Admit it, you are curious about meeting the old man.”

  “Yes, that too. There is one thing I have to know.”

  “Name it now that we are underway.” Charles stripped off his coat and hung it on the back of the door.

  “Are you serious about letting me apply for Juliet’s hand?”

  Chandler’s brows came together. “What a question? If I say no it will look like I held her out as a lure to you. If I say yes it will look like I am using you to curry favor with your grandfather.”

  “Well, aren’t you?” Gerard twisted his head to get a better look at him in the dim light.

  “Very well. I am because I want to marry my cousin Melanthe and I need my great-uncle’s permission to do that.”

  Gerard closed his eyes. “I have a feeling this is going to get very complicated.”

  “As most family matters do.” Chandler sat on the bunk and gestured. “If I could bring you home I thought it would help my suit. But I am resigned to losing Melanthe if I can but keep my sister out of Claude’s hands any way it is possible.”

  “Do you mean the general would find favor with me courting Juliet?”

  “Of course he would. That was the whole point of bringing you home, to have you marry Juliet and continue the line.”

  Gerard cast a wary glance toward his cousin. “I thought you said it was just for a visit.”

  “Trust me. Once you see Old Stand you will want to stay. The house, the herds, the sheep fields. We also have a grist mill besides the wool mill.”

  “But you scarcely know me. I could be a good deal worse than Claude.”

  Chandler shook his head. “Do you recall taking that bullet for me?”

  “Vividly. My ribs still burn like fire.”

  “I think we could say you have proven yourself.”

  “But what if the general takes a dislike to me?”

  “You must study to please him. It isn’t hard. Lord knows I’ve been doing it for two years.”

  Gerard stared at Chandler. “One more question.”

  His cousin threw himself down in the opposite bed. “Another question? Where will it end?”

  “A boon then. Promise me that Juliet will never be forced into marriage against her will, not even to me.”

  “Very well. Now get some sleep and don’t die in the night. It would hobble all our plans.”

  Gerard found himself chuckling again even though it made his ribs hurt.

  Chapter Five

  “You plan to take him into Northamptonshire right away?” the surgeon asked as he bound Gerard’s ribs so tightly he wasn’t sure he could breathe. He sat on the bed in a suite of rooms in what was for him a rather grand hotel in London.

  “Must we wait?” Charles asked. “Is he in any danger?”

  “Only from pain or infection. I have removed the ball and some bone chips but his activities should be restricted for a few weeks.”

  “So the lead was still in there,” Gerard murmured then took an experimental breath and coughed. “I thought so.”

  “You might have said something,” Chandler admonished.

  The doctor started packing his gear. “If I may have your attention, a week of bed rest would be far better than a jostling carriage ride of that length.”

  “But we must leave tomorrow,” Chandler said.

  “And he must
consult a surgeon when you get him home.” Suddenly the man looked Gerard in the face. “Who did you say you were?”

  “Gerard Cochran.”

  “Relation to Major Cochran?”

  Gerard felt an impossible flash of hope. “Yes, my father.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “Yes, he was.” So he had met his father but like all the rest of them had no news of him.

  “Very well, hare off to the country if you must. I’ve no doubt you would disregard my orders to the contrary if I gave them.” The surgeon accepted his fee and left.

  “We’ll leave after luncheon,” Charles said.

  Gerard groaned. Chandler’s sturdy valet Higgins and Gordon the footman helped Gerard dress in some of Chandler’s clothes which Gerard thought was kind of them after they’d been forced to ride on top of the coach all through France, not to mention their help restraining Conde. It all seemed above and beyond the call of a valet, footman or even the groom who had aided in his so-called rescue. Gerard thanked them warmly and they said it was nothing. Gerard went to the sitting room of the suite. Chandler was gone on some business he supposed but Juliet was waiting for him.

  “What’s the verdict?” she asked, her eyes intent as Gerard walked stiffly to the sofa and slid into a seated position.

  “You’ve killed me.”

  “Do be serious for once, Gerard.”

  “I lost a great deal of claret and a few bones were chipped. Nothing that won’t mend in a week or so.” He tugged on the neckcloth swaddling his throat.

  “So we are fixed here this week.”

  “No we leave for the country this afternoon.”

  Juliet gasped. “My brother is an idiot.”

  “But lovable.”

  “He will kill you with all this travel. It’s like a forced march.“ She jumped up and began pacing the room, causing Gerard to swivel his head back and forth to watch her and pull on his stitches.

  “I’ll mend as well one place as another.” He looked around the room as though he were part of a conspiracy and whispered, “Did you post it?”

  “Yes, I said I would and I did.” She came and sat beside him again. “I took it to the receiving office myself since my maid seems to have lost her senses over all this. I got rid of her by sending her on an errand. We don’t need her tattling that I wrote General Soutine you survived this escapade though I am far from sure of it myself.”